


An Unfair Advantage

by TypicalRAinbow



Series: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways [8]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 1998), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Break Up, Breaking and Entering, Emotional Hurt, Episode Related, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Funfair, Mostly just Constance being cross at people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypicalRAinbow/pseuds/TypicalRAinbow
Summary: It's a school trip to the fair-ground for an authorised night before the end of term. But despite Miss Cackles good intentions, Constance isn’t enjoying herself. It's no fun and no fair, not with a cheater in their midst.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing that should have been like 800 words but ran way from us. This following the events of Un-fairground and The Uninvited but like before the end of term. Like everyone's been woken up but not sure if it should be before the assembly or after atm I'll work it out later. Enjoy ! x

Bar the horizon, the evening sky was still blue and it wasn’t quite dark enough to warrant the bright fair lights that late summer evening. But she supposed it did look…nice. It would might wonderfully lit at night time, Miss Hardbroom supposed. But that didn’t mean she approved of it, just because it looked ’nice’. In fact she wouldn’t be anywhere near the funfair if she could help it.  
It would have been a lovely evening to air out the potions lab. or walk in the woods with someone, or alone. But No. she had to spend this Friday evening with the other teachers, Mr. Blossom, Mrs. Semolina and the other rarely seen staff. All escorting the girls to this side show. And, much as she tried to avoid her, with Imogen.

Together with Miss Cackle, Lavinia, and Mrs. Semolina, they’d spelled the field so no one could wander off so the girls could have fun in the boundaries of the fair. And another so there was no hiding behind rides or tents for smoking or mucking around.

For the relaxed trip, the girls were supposedly in their sports kits or school uniform, sans the ties and year belts. Not that had stopped the abundance of denim jackets, jeans bucket hats, body glitter and contraband hair twists from appearing. Constance was certain Drusilla was wearing a football shirt charmed to look like her gym shirt. (it wasn’t a very good charm, the bat kept turning back to a lion. three lions.) and had made it clear to the gal without saying that she knew it was and it was to be out of sight and back in Drusilla’s suitcase as soon as they go back to school.

But other than that, she didn’t have a lot to do. though noisy and a little hyper all of girls were all on their best behavior. Probably the brush with eternal sleep. She was slightly tempted to visit the ‘gypsy rose lee’ if only to see how her predictions measured up with Lavinia’s Or Davina’s. but then decided against it.  
If the girl’s saw her entering that tent she’d never live it down.  
So, she hovered about keeping an eye on things. And worrying about leaving the school complete empty. And wondering where was the logic in punishing one lot of girls for sneaking out to the fair, then organize a trip out for everyone. 

“What a swizz!” she suddenly heard someone grumble. “Let’s try something else.”  
Griselda. Not like her to grumble. She didn’t catch all of what Fenella said in response but it was enough that it ended with “-turning him in to a toad would be against the code. Maybe we could just give him warts and webbed feet for an hour?”

“Don’t you Dare even so much as Think About It.” Miss Hardbroom warned, appearing behind them, and fixing the girl with a glare, that made shrimpy first years about them quake in second hand fright. She made a quick loud reminder that ANYONE, last week of term or not, breaking the code or using trivial magic would be in serious trouble. And made a vague hint of it being on personal records if any certain final year girls thought it worth the risk.

She stood there as they scattered feeling like the specter at the feast. And gratefully received the large paper cup of whatever Amelia handed to her.

“Everything alright, Constance?”  
“It’s been dealt with, headmistress. I wouldn’t want the girls to think this trip out means standards of decorum are to be ignored.”  
“No. Very wise.” Amelia smiled, and tapped her own paper cup to Constance’s. (somehow managing not to spill the two on the cardboard tray she was holding.) “Cheers.”  
“Your health.” Constance replied. but nearly gagged at the taste. It resembled tea in the vaguest possible way. If tea was made in a candy floss machine. “Miss Cackle, does everything here have to be sweet?”  
“Oh, have I given you the wrong one? I thought I put a stirrer in Miss Drill’s to tell them apart.”  
“She doesn’t take sugar either now. No I mean even this tastes like caramel. We shan’t get the girls to sleep tonight if they’re high on spun sugar and toffee apples!”  
“There’s hot dogs, nachos and burgers if you’d rather something savoury.” 

But Constance wasn’t in the mood for teasing.  
“Oh good, yes, because those are so much better for the students! Miss Drill’s been trying to make sure they consider sticking to a better diet in the summer holidays, they needn’t start with the junk food now.” Miss Hardbroom said. Her scowl deepened at Amelia hmm response. “I know that face. what is it?”

“Well, you seem stressed.” Amelia implored. “You know you can always come to me to talk. Or if you nee-?”  
“If I needed to take time off, I would have.” Constance said, with a bit more bite then she meant to. Constance was trying she really was. She was here tonight after all, wasn’t she?  
“No, you wouldn’t have.” Amelia said, with a knowing look. “And anyway, I was going to ask if you need me to speak to Imogen? Or have you two sorted anything out yet yourselves?”

“Can’t we discuss this back at the school?” Constance grumbled, suddenly favoring the horrible tea to talking. Amelia wasn’t fooled. If it was possible for that knowing look to get worse it did. Constance sighed, “Imogen’s away next week to visit her brother. And I’ve the Caudronite Gala the following week. but I’ll be in the castle till then if that’s alright.”

“That isn’t what I meant. Living arrangements and who’s staying at the castle when can wait. You need to both stop pining, and being angry at each other. And then sort this out.” Amelia said concerned, and a touch gruff.  
Constance wished she wouldn’t press so. Every time she thought she’d buried them, these feelings hit her again, leaving her empty and feeling lost at sea all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

ç  
“We’ve agreed to talk. later. Maybe sometime this week…” Constance admitted. then seized on the distraction of Lavinia. Or more bunch of wet looking horrible red somethings in plastic wrapping she was carrying. “Good gods, Miss Crotchet what on earth are those?!”  
“Dummies!” Lavinia said, as if it made total sense. 

She gestured to where she’d just come from. “I promised to hold on to them for the choir while they’re on the dodgems. It can’t be good to eat these and bump around on those at the same time. I told the others to wait until back at the castle or take them home with them to open them, before we get one stuck in someone’s hair.”   
“They’re supposed to be becoming young witches not regressing back to infants.” Constance grumbled but was mostly ignored.  
“Hmm. speaking of childhood, it seems like forever since I was at a Fair like this.” Amelia smiled handing Lavinia a cuppa. “fancy a go on the steam boats, you two?”  
Constance nearly chocked on her tea. 

“I’m not ‘going on’ anything.”  
Amelia snorted. “Well I’ll get you on the gallopers if it’s the last thing I do. You can’t come to the fair without going on the gallopers!”   
“I can.”  
“Nor the waltzes? The drop of death?”   
“Certainly not.”

“She might if none of the girls see her.” Lavinia grinned. “What if you went on in secret, Constance? Invisibly?”  
“And make me look like I’m going on by myself? That’s not on.” Amelia chuckled. “It’d confuse the attendant for one thing and she might get sat on.”

Constance rolled her eyes. This sort of joking she could manage. But then Lavinia had to carry on in a stage whisper: “She might if Imogen goes with her.”  
“No.” Constance felt her face heat up and the sudden stomach drop, and had concentrate on some point in the grass. “I came to look after the girls, I’m not going on anything. With anyone.”

“Don’t-” Amelia cautioned. But Lavinia went on regardless:  
“Oh? Not even The Tunnel of love? Or the ghost train I’m sure it’s dark enough in there for-!”

Constance swung round to face her darkest hardest glare and a very sharp “SHUSH!” 

There was a beat. The world carried on its merry way around them. 

“Stop it. I mean it this- this hint dropping and other things it stops now.” Constance said in a dangerous tone, forcing her voice not to crack. “And especially around the girls for goodness sake!”   
“Why, it wasn’t a secret from them? and I was going to say a cuddle!” Lavinia squeaked incredulously then realizing she had taken things too far and tried to dig herself out of the hole as Constance advanced on her. “or p-pretending to be really scared so you have to- hold hands?”

“Miss Hardbroom…”   
If Miss Hardbroom had the best glare, then Miss Cackle had the best warning look.  
“Fine.” Constance sulked turning off the Glare and drew back. And addressed Lavinia with more measure then she felt. “But you need stop acting like a matchmaker. And saying things like that as if Imogen and I are-“ 

“That You and Imogen are what?” Constance didn’t jump as the other two had. she had been waiting for the other boot to drop. Instead she counted to three to regain her composure but covered it with a heavy exhale through her nose as Miss Drill came to stand with them. “Don’t stop on my account, Miss Hardbroom.”

“ Or that Miss Drill and I are- some sideshow among the pupils.” she amended as if Imogen hadn’t snuck on them. Then with something that between a sarcastic smile and a sneer continued. “Miss Crotchet is becoming a relationships councilor. Feel free to sneak up and add you’re input.”  
“I’ve had enough input and counselling already thanks.”

“Now that isn’t fair.” Amelia said firmly. “Stop it now both of you. No more of this in fighting.”  
Whether Miss Cackle was addressing her, and Lavinia or Imogen; Constance didn’t care or know. But she at least tried again not go along with the unkind horrible ache that was squirming in her chest. And ignored the non-witch.

“Right… so- everything’s been going smoothly so far with your forms?” Imogen small talked, and accepted the offered cup of tea from Amelia. Who then turned the paper tray into fireflies for her own amusement. As they flittered away, Constance tried to let her worries and anger go with them. It almost worked.  
The little quartet chatted together as friendly colleagues for a while. Mr Blossom popped over at a point for natter before being distracted by a steam engine. One of the first years came over looking all lost and sad until Miss Cackle connived her it was okay if she didn’t want to go on a ride her friends did and scurried back off again. And Constance pretended everything was normal. But that was before Imogen off handily asked her, “How are the ribs?”  
“I- Perfectly fine.”  
Imogen raised her eyebrows and Amelia made a noise that said she still didn’t think Constance should be up and about after fighting bad fairy’s. But Constance ignored them both. They needn’t start joining forces against her now. Not after such a week where it was mostly Imogen Vs Amelia most of the time.  
“There’s no need to be concerned. I even went to the sick bay to be certain.”  
Imogen bit the bullet and said “Well something’s wrong. You seem a bit…uncomfortable .”

“Oh I wonder why?” Normally Imogen didn’t pester or push when it came to personal things. She’s say a starter for ten, let Constance talk if she needed too. And again, Constance wondered what it was about that that her mouth running off with another snap; “If I'm out of sorts it's because- because feel Miss Crotchet’s keeps trying to play the cupid and suggesting we air out our differences in front of the girls.” 

Lavinia had the politeness to blush at least. “I only suggested going on some rides together! We weren’t meddling. Were we, Miss Cackle?”

“Miss Hardbroom’s right." Imogen reiterated before Amelia could be annoyed at being tied into things. "Stop it, not in front of the girls.”

Constance normally enjoyed being right more so if Imogen was forced to admit it. She certainly didn’t feel smug about it now though. The atmosphere was awkward between the four adults, all focusing on awful tea in paper cups while the girls acted like normal teens for once. it was however the nearest thing to broaching the elephant in the staffroom. it wasn’t meant extending the olive branch either, but Imogen took it.

“Is she right too?” she asked, she moved more to Constance’s side with a respectable distance between them. were one of the girls to be watching they’d see them as a group, just a bunch of teachers looking out over the fun fair. Not two of them as lovers or ex-lovers.   
Constance didn’t feel so well now, despite the trip to see the nurse. You could practically see the cogs going as Imogen measured out what so say. Amelia at least had the decency suddenly very interested watching in the cake walk and talking loudly about sugar dummies and wondering aloud if the Drop of Death wasn’t too scary for their younger teens.

“Play cupid I mean-? Is it just in front of the girls bit that’s bothering you? Or the fairground? With me?” Imogen continued quietly, not looking away from her paper cup her feature schooled as carefully as HB’s own. Constance watched her for a moment, drinking in the way the lights made her pretty face look, the way the slight breeze caught the short hair. 

“I-...I’m not sure if she’s right. Or wrong. Besides I believe we’d agreed to deal with that matter another time. In our own time. And in private, Miss Crotchet!”

Lavinia flinched at being caught earwigging. As did Amelia, despite still talking.

Imogen gave them a look one that mirrored Constance’s. then sighed looking back into the paper cup like it had the answers.   
“I know. But that’s not quite what I was asking…”


	3. Chapter 3

Constance knew that sort of trail off far too well. “what are you thinking? Or asking as the case maybe.”  
Imogen blinked, surprised Constance willingly asked. “I just wondered if that, well if you’d like- to come back here once the holidays start.” She said, stumbling a bit. “Or sometime this week after lights out otherwise? With me?”  
Constance gave no acknowledgement other than to blink at her. Imogen explained. Well babbled, “To the fair. It’s on till next week. And I thought it might look nice at night. We could perhaps just for an hour or so after lights out later or at some point… Just us I mean? If there is still an us?”   
She tried to keep her face blank and failed at that last bit. Just a little.   
Constance blinked at her again. “An evening out? …Here?” 

“Yes.”  
“I’ll think about it.” Constance said, unable to keep away the grimace.  
“So that’s a no then.” Imogen snorted, but Constance thought her tone was teasing more then sour perhaps.

“If you’d figured that,” Constance said. It came out far too sharply even for her ears and she tried to amend it, “Why did even you ask then?”  
“Worth a shot?” Imogen said. but this time it was tense. And she turned to look at Constance. Oh, that was the witches undoing every time. One could almost fall and drown in Those dam eyes.  
Instead of drowning however Constance crushed her empty paper cup. “I think we need to sort that ‘us’ you referred too out first. Before we start planning anything else.” she said, still to sharp, dissolving the paper cup to ash and let the breeze take it. 

“Yes. yeah, we’ll – later, we’ll- another time.” Imogen nodded, drinking her tea rather than talk, both of them ignoring the other two. Constance could feel to looks. And could almost here Ameila and Lavina weigh up if they ort jump in to meddle. or to throw something at her for being so tactless. And she hated it, hated it. 

Ignoring the wobble in Imogen’s voice, Constance then excused herself to patrol the field again. And let Imogen walk off in the other direction with Lavina scampering off after her. Had Constance looked back she would have seen as Miss Cackle at a loss of what to do. And had she strained her ears she’d have heard a cup being poured out on the grass and it bouncing out the bin it had been thrown at, along with a muttered curse as it was retrieved and slammed into the bin. Not like Imogen to miss a throw but oh well.

Constance knew it was, she’d been, curt and rude. But the whole situation left her feeling muddled. And worse she hated feeling like she’d hurt Imogen further. It wasn’t even that Imogen had done anything. Neither had Constance.   
They’d just disagreed at every point and annoyed the hell out of each other these past few weeks till the point they couldn’t even hold a civil talk at the staff table. Or keep work life out of their private time, despite being very good at the vice versa. 

“Cabin fever” as Amelia had put it.   
“A rough patch,” Lavinia had insisted. Yet Constance wondered if they’d been steady long enough to warrant a rough patch. They could work it out surly? Or was she crushing a bud that had only just flowered? 

Their reunion after Mildred saving the Tuesday had be sealed it. At least for Constance, that this- whatever it was- wasn’t something to abandon. They’d kissed and made up, scared they’d almost lost one another. They’d comforted each other. They’d made love as if making up for time they’d missed apart. And clung to one another. and talked until the small hours, Imogen worrying over the magic Constance had been hit with. And Constance worried over the prolonged sleeping spell effects on a non-witch like Imogen with no defense magic. They even cried and talked properly and hugged it out and made each feel so good, and tried to fix it all in one night. Maybe it’d been too much at once to fix.  
But it felt good. Like the shard that had set in her heart had loosened and the ache had softened. It felt right to wake up with Imogen by her side again. but then they’d rowed that same morning. Badly. about the girls maybe being allowed off-site the Friday night at first but then about everything. And they were back in their own rooms again that Wednesday evening.

They’re been some mediation by Lavinia and Amelia. But so far, the only thing they’d agreed on that this, whatever it was this was, the fighting couldn’t continue and it need sorting. Later. Tomorrow. Later. Next week. Later. Procrastinating the end possibly?  
But now the same Imogen who’d said she wasn’t sure whether she could stay with her or stay at Cackles even, was asking her out one dates to the fair? Constance felt a headache coming on. Together or apart they just kept on hurting each other.   
“What a mess we are.” Constance thought glumly. But trudged on.

Sticking to the outskirts of the fair (to avoid the other staff as much as possible), she patrolled the area as she would any corridor or lunchtime. And feigned her usual no nonsense attitude to hide behind, but really couldn’t put any effort into it.

But the incident from earlier, with the two forth years, stuck in her head. and quite honestly, she was glad of the distraction. And so, Constance decided to see if there was any merit to it. 

Him, Fenella had said when she’d suggested transforming him into something unpleasant. Perhaps a village boy? Or a stall owner or a ride attendant. Had any of the girls been hurt or approached Constance herself would have turned the fair upside down. But it didn’t seem like the case.   
“What a Swizz.” Griselda had said after all. Had a ride been unexciting? It didn’t seem they could be. Even the first years were having fun. Where ever she looked the girls seemed happy. As though reading her mind the second and fourth year girls shrieked out to her and waved as she passed them being spun up and around on the X-treme. Her hand twitched but Constance gave them a little incline of the head instead staying to watch. It was nice to see them laughing and carefree after their finals and the chaos of this week.

But which it was a big fairground, with a whole host of different game stalls on this one field. Judging by the number of toys (and gold fish that she doubted would make their way home) she could see there didn’t seem too many you couldn’t win at. So perhaps it was a case of one or two ruining everyone else’s reputation?

Speaking of which there seemed to be an awful lot of high pithed arguing and crying by the Waltzes drawing a crowd. She nearly put her puzzle on hold, only to find it was just the Hallows and that the other teachers were already on the scene. So, she left Imogen sort out whatever falling out Ethel and her sister had had now and carried on. And ignored the little voice in her head that pointed out the irony.

Following a hunch Constance zeroed in on the worst witch and her friends. 

She found them sat around a picnic table she was certain the burger van had not provided. Having blown most their pocket money on their own illicit excursion a few days before, they were the only girls really unable to join in all the fun of the fair. It didn’t stop them making their own. She had to admire their resourcefulness to come prepared at least.   
Mildred and Maud were drawing in their sketch books with a pencil case of colours between them. ruby relaxed across two seats idly blowing soap bubbles from a little plastic wand. and Enid was carefully trying to paint Jadu’s nails on one hand while Jadu jotting something down in her note book with the other. 

Hopefully not more writing shark jokes. 

Maud spotted HB approaching first and with a nudge, the chatter stopped.

“If I’d known your little coven spending the evening here, I’d have recommended you bringing your text books to make a start on your summer projects.” Constance said, standing at the head of the table with only a mild irritated look at Enid and Jadu. “Instead of nail varnish. I’d like word with you five, if I may.”   
“Yes miss,” they chorused nervously. To be fair up until lunch time, two of the five had been expelled and the others in big trouble so no wonder they were uneasy in her presence...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation-ing continues!

But Enid put away the nail vanish at least. and Ruby shifted off one seat to make room for her but Constance declined it. And used a little magic making sure they wouldn’t be over heard by anyone else. 

“You’re not in trouble. For once. No, one or two of the other girls are in the thinking that there’s some …Unfairness going on. I believe this to be from one of these game stalls.” she said. “Naturally they can’t all be impossible, given you five won at least goldfish and teddy bear between you.”

(Mildred looked like she wasn’t sure if that was an insult of not.)

“So, when you five were here, out of bounds I might add, did you notice anything odd? About any of the prizes, or the way they were dealt out?”

“Well,” Maud was the first to speak after a thought. “Hook a duck is prize every time so it can’t be that.”   
“I think there’s a few where you only win big prizes if you get the max score.” Enid added. “if that’s what you mean by unfair, Miss.”   
“The shoot the hoops one is really easy, if you just do it properly like Miss Drill showed us in Basketball.” Said Ruby. Jadu agreed.  
“Even the first years are managing to score at least once!”   
Constance hoped that wasn’t where she scored the giant teddy bear. Goodness knows one in the castle called Cackle was enough.  
“The bottle ones hard.” Mildred put in. “and test your strength, none of us could ring the bell. And the sharp shooter-”  
“Only because it took you twenty shots!” Ruby teased. 

“Yes, but they are Doable?” Constance cut in. “Without Cheating and Resorting to Using Magic for Your Own Gain?”   
They flinched. Constance sighed and lowered her voice again. She was trying, she really was. She really would have to work hard with them next year though, if Mildred and Jadu really were to take over as head girls. “What I mean is, are there any that struck you as rigged? Enough to warrant being called a ‘Swizz’ and a student wanting to transfrogify the stall holder.”  
“Oh.” they shared a look “There’s a few. but one- Maybe. we thought…”  
“Which one?” Constance said, patience frying again.  
“The one with the skittle stacks, Miss. Over there, just to the left of the helter-skelter.” Maud directed. The others agreed adding their input.

“Only me and Enid tried it!”   
“Like, the others are tricky?”  
“But that one is just sooo fishy.” 

(Constance didn’t even bother correcting the grammar. The things the girls pick up nowadays, really!)

“You get a lollipop for trying. That’s what he counts a prize every time.”  
“We told the others to avoid it tonight, go to the coconut shy instead.”  
“It looks easy. One for a small prize, two for a medium and if you knock all three down you get the big one.”   
“but even getting a small prize is impossible! I haven’t seen anyone win it yet.”

“The balls are too heavy and I don’t know how but they feel ‘wrong’ to throw. We couldn’t hit anything. And we couldn’t knock the cans down. even when-! “

Mildred suddenly snapped her mouth shut. And the other girls gave her that bug eyed ‘shut-up’ look. The sort that, (one learns as a teacher), all teenagers believe is invisible to the eyes of adult. 

It isn’t.

“Even when, what?” Constance pressed and got no reply. “Am I to suppose your silence means ‘Even When We Cheated and Resorting to Using Magic for Our Own Gain’?”

“Yes Miss… I did.” Enid admitted. Much to HB’s surprise. Normally coming forward was not Enid’s thing. Neither was taking the blame. Especially not straight away.

“I tried a target charm on our last ball, just so it was on aim.” Enid continued. “But it still didn't work.”   
Constance raised an eyebrow. “You’re certain it should have?”   
“Yes Miss.”  
“She hit it right in the middle. And hard.” Mildred put in, backing up her friend. The others agreed.   
“But it only knocked the one off the top off miss.”   
“And then he said that didn't count as they all have to be knocked down.”   
“So, we decided to so something else.”

“Hmm. And this was by the helter-skelter you say?”   
“Yes Miss.”

As useful as they had been, Constance still gave the group a short stern lecture about using their magic as such selfish ends. But left it at that.

Sort of. She did then- (just to make sure they knew she wasn't going completely soft) -vanish from sight, waiting. And then when they were certain she’d gone, she made a reappearance and a vaguely nice comment about Maud’s drawing of the gallopers. Satisfied and amused they’d learnt some form of lesson she walked away. for real this time, thinking up a plan of action.  
The game stall was rigged. That sounded plausible. But how to sort it?   
Oh, but then Miss Drill interrupted her thoughts; as she so often did. Literally with a shout this time rather than daydreams.  
“Surely you don’t think they’re planning something again?”


	5. Chapter 5

 

Constance back tracked and scowled, disliking the tone and volume she was addressed with. And that she’d been being watched. She also couldn’t help wondering how Imogen could still so lovely, while looking so irritated.

 

And with a horrible smell in the air. And someone else’s body fluids on her shoe. And while stood holding back the wild red hair of a second year’ whose head was in a bin and making some right horrible noises.

“Hot dog then the Dodgems, tango, the Helter-Skelter and candy floss. Polished off with the drop of death. Not a good idea or combination.” Imogen explained at HB’s baffled look then addressed the wretched student kindly. “You know not to that again don’t you, Clarence?”

There was a groan. Imogen took it as a “Yes Miss”. And turned back to Constance.

 

“But the third years. They’ve been on their best behavior all night to get back in yours and Miss Cackle’s good books. You weren’t giving them a telling off for that, were you?”

“I wasn’t.” Constance said irritably. Imogen still looked skeptical. “Really. By the code. Your little Dob-society are as free as anyone else is tonight, they aren’t up to anything.”

“Oh. Well that makes a change,” Imogen admitted.

 

“Oh honestly!” HB huffed. “I was merely trying to get to the bottom of something! I just thought they might have seen anything of use, I’ll explain later if I really need to.”

 

Imogen’s face went all stiff and clouded over again. And while she nodded an “All right” and returned her focus on rubbing Clarence’s back with her free hand, Constance knew it wasn’t.

 

Later. Constance understood. She too was beginning to hate that word. Later, later, later, never.

 

“Here,” Constance sighed. She cleaned Imogen’s shoes with a flick of magic. “Give her this when she’s… finished there. And make sure she drinks the whole thing. I made a few just in case we had situations like this.”

And she fished a little corked vial from her pocket gesturing to Clarence. Imogen took it. Their fingers brushed. And stayed that tad moment too long. And then Constance pulled away, ignoring Imogen’s quiet thank you. She started to walk away as then stopped and turned back.

“And Miss Drill.” She said, her voice cracking a little. Imogen looked back up, surprised.

 

“Can I have that word, later. Later, as in later Tonight. Once the girls are at supper.”

“Of course.” Imogen said. With a very welcome to see smile.  Constance tried to ignore the flutters of her heart.

“Good.”

 

Maybe things might be alright after all she thought. Just as Crowfeather loudly lost what stomach contents she had left. Both teachers winced. But Miss Drill rolled her eyes and shooed Constance on her way before she could offer any assistance.

“Go on, I think she’s done. You go get to the bottom of that ‘something’.” she smirked, and went back to looking after Clarence.

  
Constance did as she was told, walking away and mulled over the problem. The problem of the game stall, not of Imogen, deliberately not of Imogen. Because if she thought of Imogen it would become a tide of thinking “Why did I say that? Why did I say tonight? What if it’s not alright?” and other initialized panic.

 

But the game stall could be rigged. That sounded plausible. But how to sort it? No, she couldn’t go accusing the owner without proof. But at the same time, she didn’t like the idea of someone swindling the girls out of their pocket money. Not when they could waste their money on other games rides and sweets instead.

And after lecturing the girls, she wasn’t sure if it was against the code somehow to use vast amounts of magic just to win a game.

 

She’d have to find out the truth first, the whole truth. Then perhaps if something was amiss, she could just undo whatever trickery to make it a fair game? Not easy, but even up the odds a little and make the owner earn an honest living instead. That could be the right solution?

She made her way to the helter-skelter without much fuss, again feeling like the spectre at the feast. She’d just advised Bryony to remove that blue eyeshadow forthwith, when she saw the stall. And it’s owner. So HB continued to hang around, trying not to make it noticeable she was watching him, not so much watching the girls.

He was a Spivey sort of chap, she noted. Not so much in looks but the way he held himself. The Oily mannerisms to customers, the shirt that had only been ironed on the front. One hand in change bib around his waist almost all the time and far too friendly voice as he competed for attention shouting things like “Step right up! Prize every time!”   

 

His stall was on the smaller side compared to the others in the row. But adorned in the same fashion bright colours, hand painted signs and with its prizes on display.

They were twee pink and purple and blue stuffed teddies with hearts on their stomachs. Big garish toys she supposed were dogs. And those huge yellow pill-shaped smiling things with goggles that Constance was just itching to destroy on sight.

They were all very hard to miss on the stall. But in the crowds? She couldn't see anyone with them or recall passing any.

And of course, the game itself. Near the back of the tent and behind a sort of barrier, three stacks of six silver tin cans sat on a long shelf.

As she watched, a stocky young man from the village came up. And tried to win a doggy for the child (possibly his sister or daughter), with him. And failed. And tried again. None of his shots quite landed. One went completely way ward the bounced back off the barrier’s boards. And as Enid said, those that were on target didn’t. The two that did most defiantly hit. But didn’t cause the towers to topple completely, despite the power the boy put behind his last two throws. He lost another quid before calling it quits, much to the child’s distress. Even when given two lollypops. And the stall owner, once he’d reset the stacks, went back to shouting at passers-by.

 

Satisfied she’d seen enough from this side of the Fair, Constance formed her plan and made another loop around the area in search of someone again. Not fast to draw attention. But the girls and other patrons to still moved out of her way. She eventually found Fenella and Griselda coming off the dodgems. They stopped stop giggling as she made a bee line toward them.

“You two, come with me. Now.” She instructed not giving them an explanation as they fell into step with her, one either side. Curious and wary, they obeyed...


	6. Chapter 6

“Don’t make it obvious,” Constance said to them as they neared the stall. “But am I to assume this is the gentlemen you had trouble with earlier? The one you were tempted to break the code for?” Griselda confirmed it.   
“Hmm.” Was all HB said as they walked on past. Until they came to a quieter spot. 

“You two maybe actually on to something, so for once… I am indulging you.” She said. “But you are not to breath a word of this to anyone, understand?”  
“not a word.” They promised.   
And Fenny asked, “What do would you like us to do, Miss?”  
Much to their surprise, Constance gave each of them a pound coin.  
“You are to go back to him of course.” Miss Hardbroom instructed. “Wait a few minutes first. Then I want you both to try again while I handle his game, if it is rigged. But I need you to keep him distracted and at the front of his little stall for as long as possible, preferably until I come back to collect you if you can. Is that clear?”  
“Yes miss!”  
“As mud Miss!”  
“Good. On your way.” She said, then added as an afterthought. “And don’t overdo it if you are going to use magic!”

As they wandered back into the crowd, Constance rendered herself invisible again and materialized in the spaces between the gazeboes. 

A peek around the corner showed her ‘target’ was already busy with one punter, (a first year that was either Aspen Clipper or Medina Scales, she couldn’t tell from here). And coming past the Xtreme, she saw Fenny and Gris hovering about and mingling with the other girls, as though debating where to go next.

Satisfied, Constance retreated into the shadows to very back of the Tin Can Ally tent. Then undid the canvas and slipped inside. She was about to simply walk across to the cans, when one of the wooden balls whizzed past her ear and hit the back of the canvas with a WUMPH. This caused her to quite ungainly duck down behind the barrier, almost falling nose first into the turf. And was very glad no one was there to witness it. ( she should have seen that coming both Aspen and Medina were two of Imogen’s best fielders.) Thankfully despite the fright, her invisibility had held. Constance felt ridiculous enough crouched down in this position, without someone seeing or worse finding her in the dirt! Or sand as it turned out. 

Sand, in a field? Sand bags to hold down canvas and prop up board that made sense. But an open bag of sand at her feet? It was scattered on the grass and there were wet piles of it on the ground underneath the shelf. The ball landed amongst several others and empty cans in the turf. What hadn’t he retrieved them? Why only pick up those that landed in front of the barrier. And why the barrier? She thought as there was a Thunk of another ball bouncing off the board. 

“Oh bad luck! Never mind love, have a sweetie.” Constance heard the stall owner say to the punter over the din of the fair. Then, Fennella and Griselda’s voices as they approached and the mark took the bait. “Ah back for another try girls?”

As he took three balls out of a crate, and restacked a set of cans Constance took her chance and stole to the other side of the tent before he could get to close. She decided to get a better look at the actual tins and reaching up gave the nearest stack an experimental tap. ‘And why do the cans have lids on?’ She thought.

“Same rules as before...”

The top one was loose and hollow. Constance almost knocked it off! Another couple of quiet as could be taps with her nail revealed the middle stacks were not hollow. At not the bottom they were about half full of something, three quarters full on the other row. and the bottom row were solid. it didn't take much imagination to work out that there was probably sand inside the tins and the piles of sand on the floor were from them being filled. 

“Go on Fenny!”  
As though to prove the point one ball hit the shelf under the first tin can pile. The shelf wobbled and the top can clattered off.   
“Oh nearly! Maybe try a little harder and just aim for that one stack?”

Constance frowned. Even with this added weight gravity would have brought them down. if they’d all been loose. So, logic meant they can’t be loose? Constance gave one can in a middle row a push. It resisted and didn’t tip but Constance nudged it forwards. It also nudged the can next to it.   
There was the solution to this puzzle. Constance gave a few more cans the same treatment. Bar the ones at either end, each tin was attached to a neighbor in its row. Be they glued or pegged together or strung together through the middle to bind them, then the next step was to suppose they could also have been glued down too? Or nailed down it turned out as she checked under the shelf!

No matter how hard you hit a stack, they wouldn’t all fall. You’d get one can, or two if you were lucky. But it was impossible to win even the smallest prize...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh the rotter! Thanks for reading :D x


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get HB being a tad extra, here and a new episode later today, happy monday!

 Constance saw the secret joining, wet sand and nails for what they were. And Saw RED.

Suddenly warts and webbed feet seemed too nice for this cheater, this scoundrel. Constance was Furious enough burst from her hiding place in this den of debauchery to confront the villain. She’d cut him to pieces with words and snarls, disgrace him in front of everyone and then turn him into something rotten. A slug, or a cow pat perhaps, a grapefruit, a first year gym sock- And BOTHER what The Code had to say on such matters too!

And she would have too. If she hadn’t forgotten she was sat on her haunches under the shelf.  

And if she hadn’t bashed her head on that same shelf as she made to stand up.

 Constance bumped it very hard, even with her topknot taking most of the blow. Hard enough to make yelp and almost swear. Hard enough for the great HB’s invisibility to flicker and make her curl up cradling the top of her head. Luckily, she didn’t knock self out or give herself concussion or knock any cans over. Also as luck would have it at the very same time there was a loud “Come on Gris!” to cover the noise. Or else the stall owner might have come and investigated and thus caught her.

 Again, as if to prove her hypothesis, the second ball whizzed though the air. This time at an impossible arch.

“Blimey, good throw!” said the spiv.

Even as she held her head, Constance saw the haze of a targeting charm on it as the ball swung in its curve. It hit the stack on the middle row. And one of the cans on the side of the stack wobbled but not enough to fall. just like Enid had said it had for her. There was an annoyed groan from the third years and Constance wasn’t sure they were hamming it up.

That did it. Despite the bump, Constance’s mind worked fast. Rather than confronting the stall owner after all, she stuck to original plan. This kind of payback would be sweeter then she decided. And less likely to get her the sack.

So HB channelled in everything (all her rage, her headache, and her heart ache, along with her frustrations from the exam week for good measure) into a quick bit of magic. First she found the rods and tricks. Then she removed the lot. Everything but the cans themselves. No nails or glue. No lids and sand, getting rid of those bags on the floor as well so he couldn’t even repair and reset it after her. All of it was banished.

Backing up first so as avoid being bumped into anything else HB then straightened up and left the way she came. Only more smug. Revenge is a dish best served cold on a summer night. Even if meant the castle was invaded by scores of stuffed horrors. Reappearing across the way, she blended in to crowd as best she could, trying not to appear as suddenly for once and doubled back to Fennella and Griselda, who were still at the stall.  

They were fake loud arguing over which to aim for and who should throw the last. Why they'd chosen to just try the once was lost on Constance. She was sceptically torn between them taking a pound as payment or they were doing it one after the other to buy her more time.

On seeing her approach Fenny gave up the ball with a shrug. Gris chucked it in a deliberately lame duck of a throw. it bounced off the barrier and rolled back towards them.

“Well you two,” Constance said, “Are you winning?”

“No miss.” Fenny sighed. “No luck. Well not yet.”

 “What do you think miss?” Gris asked fishing out the other quid. “Do you reckon we should try again or do something else?”

“Oh Have another go, you were really close that second time.” The stall owner patronized. you could practically see the pound signs in his eyes. It was all Constance could do not summon a besom to hit him with. She ignored him not trusting that her glare wouldn’t set his trousers on fire.

 “I don’t see why not.” She said to the girls instead. “Providing if you actually hit them this time...”

 The girls winked at each other. Constance assumed that meant they got her cryptic meaning. So, Gris gave the man the money. And he reset the singular fallen can and set three more balls out in fount of them. Constance had meant for them to merely pop another few target charms to win. So, she was baffled when Griselda geared up for another throw only to pause. Dramatically.

“Actually, Fenella, would you rather take over? My arm is Awfully tired!”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly Griselda! My wrist is still extremely sore with writer’s cramp.” Fenny replied, much too both Constance’s and the spivvy stall holder’s confusion. They never address each other like that… unless they’re up to something, Constance thought.

“Hey come on ladies, it’s not rocket science-!” the stall owner started but was again ignored.

“Well if neither of us can throw we need to get someone to do it for us.”

“Agree. In fact I think we need a champion.”

Constance frowned sincerely hoping they weren’t about to put her on the spot by asking her. And she said much.

 “Oh no Miss Hardbroom.” Fenny assured her, “No offence. But we had someone else in mind.”

“Someone a little more…good at this sort of thing.” Gris smiled. And nudged Clarence. Constance blinked, having not noticed the red head’s appearance. When the second year had taken her head out the bin and been made privy to whatever plan the pair had up their short sleeves was a complete mystery.

Nether the less, Clarence took a deep breath, threw her head back and at the top of her lungs bellowed “MISS DRILL!!!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! What are those two- well three- up to I wonder.


	8. Chapter 8

  1. As one might expect, this screaming succeeded in catching the attention of nearly everyone on the field. Especially as Clarice held the I’s for so long and so high pitched it sounded more like a power drill then Imogen’s own name.



 

As summoned Imogen popped up in crowd and she sprinted over, the girls and other patrons parting to let her through. As if Fenny and Gris had lit the beacons of Gondor, Other teachers and staff members also tried to come to Clarice’s aid. But had less success with the crowds.

 

“What is it? What’s wrong-” Imogen started already fetching the first aid kit from her bag. But Clarice shrugged.

 

“Nothing. They said to shout you, miss.” She said. And with that skipped off with a fresh toffee apple. much to Imogen’s confusion, Constance’s confusion and the stall owner’s confusion.

 

“Shout me for what?” Imogen looked to Constance who shrugged back as baffled as she was.

 

“We need a champion.” Fenny repeated as Gris thrusted a ball in Imogen’s face.

 

(“Er- what exactly’s going on?” asked the hapless stall owner. But he was ignored.)

 

“Please Miss Drill, can you help?”

 

“You shouted Her over like That for a Game?!” Miss Hardbroom barked, realising what they’d done. But was interrupted before she could tell the girls off for causing a scene.

 

“You let them?” Imogen snapped at her, then rounded on the forth years. “Honesty I thought there was something wrong-!”

 

“But miss you’re the best at throwing.” Fenny pleaded.

“The very best! Even better then Gloria-!” Gris added.

 

“There’s no need to batter you eye lashes Griselda Blackwood, I think she understood!” Constance huffed. And folded her arms so tight something hurt.

 

Imogen blushed a little flattered by the pair despite still very annoyed being roped into something that was clearly a scheme. A scheme she was still trying to gauge what HB had to with it, judging by the subtle look to Constance as Fenny explained what to do. She was watching her face as Constance watched hers, obviously relived it wasn't an emergency, and still curious to what was going on.

 

“Go along with it.” Constance muttered. She was conscious that, while most people had gone back to their own devices, they’d gathered quite a little crowd. Amelia and some of the other staff and girls were even over sellers had stopped to watch.  The Dobs had magiced up some popcorn for the event. And it would be tricky to disappear even with so many non-witches looking at them. “But try not to win the top prize though.”

 

 

“I wouldn’t bother with that too much, sweetheart.” The Spiv shrugged, not doing himself any favours to be likeable. “Most of the fellas haven’t managed it yet.”

 

“How dare you-!” Constance started in a hiss, but Imogen stood on her foot. She needn’t have bothered. A lot of the crowd took offence to it too. And not just the Cackle’s Lot.

 

“Oi!”

“Get him HB!”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“Drusilla, throw something at him would you?”

“Aim for his face miss!”

 

“Miss Drill is our PE teacher.” Fenny smiled but with a fierce edge. “And she can easily bowl for England.”

 

“Try and she is not your sweetheart either-!” Gris muttered.

 

“Now, now girls.” Amelia soothed. While glaring daggers that could rival Constance’s. “Miss Drill, would you be so kind?”

 

 “Alright,” Imogen laughed Tried to be nonchalant. “Well I suppose I could. Seeing as you asked so nicely and so loud.”

 

The forth years cheered and shared a high five.  

The little devils Constance thought. Either they were up for making a public spectacle of the Spiv. Or like Lavinia, they were meddling.

 

Or both. Both was very possible.


	9. Chapter 9

“Could you hold these for me, Miss Hardbroom?” Imogen asked, jerking Constance out of her thoughts. Oh, that grin was the witches undoing every time as well too. Constance took the jacket and rucksack, but refused to shoulder it as Imogen took the ball from Gris and came up to the line, gearing up to throw. then paused. Much to every one’s confusion.

“Not again.” the stall owner huffed. Imogen was passing the ball lightly from one hand to the other, frowning. “Now What?” 

Imogen glared at him and asked, “Are these supposed to weighted on one side? It’s as if they’re made to spin and miss.”

There was a gasp from someone in the crowd. The Spiv went red at being put on the spot, then thunderous in rage. “What are you trying to say?”

So that is what obviously in Maud’s words made them wrong to throw? Constance thought, annoyed she didn’t think to rectify that. not that it mattered.   
Before the stall owner could make an excuse or say anything else however, weighted or not, Imogen made a sudden spectacular shot that would have won England the ashes. Instead, it hit the middle stack of cans with a WHAM! Straight through the tins.

“What the-!?”   
“Go Drill Go!”  
“She did it!”  
“That’s our teacher!”  
“That’s my girl.” Constance privately thought, proud and pleased as punch. The girls shrieked and Amelia applauded! The stall owner looked dumbstruck.

“Should I go for the next stack?” Imogen asked and laughed at the responding cheers. “left or right?”  
“left!” said Gris.  
“Right!” said fenny.

Imogen stepped back and lined up another shot, very much enjoying the attention and showing off. And showing off the toned arms and line of her body in that polo shirt... Constance eyed them, remembering the lithe body under that shirt, those hands, strong hugs, that grin… for a moment and by the lights of the fair time slowed down. Constance watched her, parched and a little dizzy, drinking in the way the lights made her pretty face look, the way the slight breeze caught the short hair. Then shook herself for ogling. 

“Are you alright, Constance?” Amalia asked suddenly at her elbow.   
“You look flushed all of a sudden.” Lavina piped up.  
“Must be the summer air.” Constance snapped, gripping Imogen’s jacket tighter; Just as Imogen’s second throw knocked the middle bottom can straight out from the under others. The left-hand stack folded in on its self and the crowd cheered again. Weighted balls or not, her aim was more or less spot on without the need for magic. 

Miss Cackle and Lavina clearly weren’t fooled however by Constance’s dismissal. Certainly not judging by the look burning the back of Constance’s head. And certainly, not when Imogen flashed Constance another grin that left her Warm and fuzzy and confused.

The chanting and cheering was almost on a ridiculous level, when a hush fell over the crowd. And Imogen lined up the final throw…

It might be unrealistic to expect even a sports woman to get perfect shot three times in a row. Especially with a weighed shot.  
Technically Imogen missed the final stack of cans. The last ball hit the shelf. But she hit it with a wallop so hard the cans jumped. Then before any noise of disappointment could be heard like skittles they tumbled and fell.  
There Deafening roar As the cans went down. Imogen was Mobbed with Hugs and a few claps on the back by the DOB’s, second years and Lavina, the crowd whooping with Enid leading them in a rather off key chorus of ONWARDS EVER STRIVING ONWARD. Anyone would have thought if she’d won Cackles the world cup rather than a fairground game.

 

“It only hit the shelf- Didn’t hit the cans…” the gobsmacked spiv tried over the din. 

“All three stacks are down.” Miss Hardbroom said in a Hardbroom voice, a voice that took no argument. “Alright girls, that Will Do!”

She distanced herself from the stall, still feeling muddled, but also relief and smug this particular problem had been solved. The crowd began to move on, Amelia shooeing them on still laughing and yelling and letting Imogen detangle herself from her fangirls.

 

“Three stacks. That’s one of the extra-large Prizes, isn’t it?” Imogen said cheekily. Then noticed what exactly the extra large toys were and saw just why Constance told her to avoid those. “Or you know, perhaps just three small toys? One each of us.”

The spiv agreed, shell shocked and glad to get rid of them, and took down the chosen ones. Constance didn’t bat an eye lid as Fenella and Griselda both picked out the most brightest coloured ones. But then they swapped over the tokens? She put it down to a friendship thing.

“Thanks Miss Drill!”  
“That was so cool!” They said with a butter wouldn’t melt mouth smiles. And extremely unsubtle, mouthed ‘nice ones’, thumbs up and winks at HB. Constance scowled back and they scurried off.   
Imogen raised an eyebrow with a “What did you do?” look. But didn’t say anything, instead she made a bee line to Constance and held out her prize. 

“So erm. Here…?” 

To hold Constance assumed, holding out Imogen’s things to return to her. Imogen took her jacket and pulled it on.

“And thanks, for looking after these.”

“No matter.” Constance merely shrugged, and focused on the tacky stuffed toy instead. Imogen had come away with a black and purple teddy bear. It had a red love heart on its tummy and a stupid expression that would have been too sickeningly sweet for even valentine’s day.

“Hm I would have thought you’d have gone for the blue one.”

“I thought this one’s more your style?” Imogen grinned taking her bag.

“My style?” Constance blinked. It was hideous. She still had the bear held out but Imogen didn’t take it back.

 

“It’s yours.” Imogen frowned, shrugging on her rucksack. Constance fell into step next to her.

“But- You won it!”

“I did and now it’s yours. Like how Fenny and Gris swapped? Well If you want it. Don’t feel forced on my account.” 

“Why would I want your prize? And we haven’t swapped anything-?”

“Because Constance you’re supposed to win someone else a rubbish toy at the funfair. Especially if you’ve been persuaded by school kids to play.” Imogen explained with a sigh. She then playfully pushed it back to Constance, who much to her shame turned bright red at the touch of Imogen’s hand.   
“Sorry? I thought you knew that. But leave it for one of the girls if you don’t want it, it’s okay.”

 

“Oh.” was all Constance said. Unable to look at Imogen she looked instead at the gift again. It was ghastly. And the fur felt cheap. But it was sweet in its own way. And it came from Imogen... 

 

“Well, thank you.” Constance said still baffled. “Is it a non-witch tradition? Giving away your prizes?”

“Maybe? But I well. The fair, the night and then winning that I-” Constance looked up and fond Imogen blushing rubbing the back of her neck. “Well I- I just thought it might be a bit …romantic.”

 

Constance gasped shrilly and sharply at the word, looking about in horror. “Miss Drill! Shh!”  
A few girls turned in their direction, and the other teachers were watching them like hawks. Constance wanted to just vanish or the ground to just swallow her up. 

“Sorry right Yes. But like I said it doesn’t have to be- that. It’s okay you don’t have to keep it.” Imogen fumbled, again jerking Constance out of her thoughts in trying to be soothing while annoyed at herself. 

 

But Constance realised she did want it like that, for the prize to mean that, become a token of affection, and she wasn’t feeling so surrounded and didn’t have the dratted bear gripped to her front in both hands she might have kissed Imogen on the spot. She wanted to say so but couldn’t find the words. But she supposed Imogen had been quiet enough in her declaration. If anything, Constance’d been the one attracting attention.   
Including from a stall owner, who looked up from examining an empty can…

“So. Anyway HB are you going to tell me what that back there was all about?” Imogen asked. A tad loudly. Then frowned looking down.   
“Or why there’s sand all over your knees?”

Constance said nothing but took her arm and make a sharp exit before the stall owner realised his rig had been rigged!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the end but then these two spent more time being cute at each other then actually getting around to talking out their problems so we'll get to that another time.

Five minutes and one quick escape later, Constance was sat across from Imogen at the abandoned magicked up picnic table. The other staff had given them a wide berth for once. and bar the odd student (or telling the odd student off rather. Bryony hadn’t removed the makeup like Miss Hardbroom had instructed.), they were uninterrupted. The hideous bear sat on the table between them, as Constance explained the whole episode over another cup of awful tea.

“Oh. So that’s why you were over here with the other dobs?” Imogen asked, sat as she often did elbows on the table leaning forward during the conversation.

Constance nodded. “I thought they might be able to shed some light on the matter. And I was right. It transpired they had a similar experience with that stall when they snuck out here.”

“And you gave him a taste of his own medicine?” Much to HB’s surprised, Imogen beamed at her. “Constance that’s brilliant! And so nice of you.”

“Was it?” Constance deadpanned. Ignoring the flush of her cheeks at the compliment. Although she did at least acknowledge the heart flutter at Imogen using her first name again this time.

“It was. What you did. Especially for Fenny and Gris and what’s gone on this week. That was really kind.” Imogen insisted. “And dare I say it sweet of you.”

“Kindness? Kindness had nothing to do with it.” Constance frowned. “Nor sweetness… Goodness they’ve all had too much sugar already.”

 

Sometimes it was hard to tell if Constance was taking things to literal or making a pun on words. Right at this moment Constance hadn’t been Sure herself which she’d been. But she’d timed it well. Imogen nearly chocked ugly laughing around a sip of tea. I’ve missed that laugh, the witch thought. 

“Yes, but what I mean is you did that for the girls.” Imogen said mopping at her jumper with a paper tissue. “Even though you hate that sort of thing. You said all this,” she gestured around her, “and the games were a silly waste of time yesterday.”

“I still think it is a waste of time. But I couldn’t let him carry on swindling people.” Constance justified. 

“And what if one of the girls had broken the code to get back him? I realise the gruesome twosome were joking about giving him warts and webbed feet, but someone else if annoyed enough might have turned him into a frog for real. Or if one of the first years had overheard Fenella and Griselda, and taken the matter up themselves? Some of them are desperate to become Society members you know. Look Sybil Hallow. It wouldn’t be the first time a younger girl’s done something rash with magic to try and impress an older student.”

“Or impress an older witch?” Imogen challenged. “I’m fairly certain a lot of the accidents in the lab are caused the girls trying to show off or being distracted because theye have a crush on you.”

“That’s a ridiculous notion. Most accidents are caused Mildred Hubble alone.” Constance said.

“I would be distracted or trying to impress you.” Imogen said. With a wink. That was definitely flirting and unfair.   
“Oh, be quiet Imogen.”

Imogen just grinned over the rim of her paper cup. Constance wondered if she felt the same flutters at the witch using her first name as she did when Imogen called her something other than Miss Hardbroom.

They sat for a spell in Compatible not tense or frosty silence. Around them the fair carried on its merry go round way. The excited squeals and shouts, the mix of organ music and pop music, and the clatter of the dodgems. It had just faded into the background just in Imogen’s presence.  
At some point Imogen had move in her seat so as underneath the table her Foot against Constance’s ankle. Constance didn’t mind it. In fact, in turn moved her hand across the table. Near enough to so her the back of her fingers brushed Imogen’s Knuckles. Imogen glanced down at their hands then back up at Constance, who pretended not to notice, her other hand other ideally toying with the purple bear’s paw. It was in a sense the least awful one Imogen could have picked. Even if glittery.  
She needs a name Constance thought. But none came to mind. And Constance found herself not caring if the girls saw her with it. or saw her and Imogen together. 

“So … who’s idea was calling me in?” Imogen asked after a while.  
“The students.”  
“oh hell, has Lavina got back up now?”

Constance couldn’t help a laugh try as she might. 

“Possibly. Or they just wanted get revenge on the fellow.” she shrugged. “I can’t say I disagree with their choice either way. you put on quite the good performance. I think you humiliated him quite soundly.”

“All thanks to you. I wouldn’t have been able to clear any of the cans if not without your sleuthing, Detective Constance.” Imogen grinned. She even added a mock salute for emphasis. “Or should that be Constable Hardbroom.” 

“Neither.” Constance chuckled, rolling her eyes. 

Then hissed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

A Spike of pain had cut through all the pleasantness. It took Constance a moment to focus. Imogen had been talking to her, but the world had flooded becoming a fog of noise some for a moment leaving Constance now choice but to take some deep breaths until it settled.

“HB?” Imogen repeated. There was a hand most defiantly on hers now. “Constance? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Constance said with gritted teeth, trying not to let her voice hitch too much. Blinking away the coloured spots in her vision she found Imogen raised her eyebrows very disbelieving look at her.

“No, no I’m not…” Constance admitted in a grumble. “I’ve a Headache. I caught my head on the shelf as I made to stand up. And I may have used too much magic today, I fear I might be burning out. This noise isn’t helping.”

Imogen winced in sympathy.  
“Is it just the headache?” she asked her other hand on her arm. Constance glanced at it, tensed, as did Imogen. But Constance relaxed, a little, resting her head in her other hand. “Do you need a potion or something?”

“I haven’t any with me bar a few essential and the After-Vomit potions.” Constance said. “Before you ask, I can’t summon any from the school without effecting them either.”

Imogen took her hand off Constance’s arm to search he own bag, Constance mourning its loss. “I’ve some parastomal in my bag if that’d help. Do you feel dizzy or sick?”

“I just feel out of sorts don’t start to fuss.” Constance said. but Accepted the para-whatever they were. Not without complaint. They were not instantaneous tasted awful. how on earth non- witches stomached them she’d never know. “Why would I be feeling dizzy?”

“In case you have Concussion, your daft witch.” Imogen said returning her hand to Constance’s arm, a Thumb brushing the fabric. Constance looked up from the tanned hand against the black fabric of her dress. Looked up in to the bright eyes and the grin that made her heart backflip every time. 

“or is it just my being here?” Imogen added with another wink.  
“it could be I suppose.” Constance shrugged, throwing Imogen off completely and Content for all the sights of the fair to stay gazing at Imogen.   
“You are very distracting. Not to mention lovely.”

“I was joking but thank you. Seriously though if you start to feel dizzy or sick, we better get you to the first aiders tent. Can you fly like this?”

“Yes, I can.” Constance huffed. “It’s not concussion, I’ve checked with a spell first thing. It’s just a headache, my magic will recover easily enough. Which will help too.”  
“Frank and Maria came down in Ted’s car, we could take you back to the castle.”  
“If I can’t fly, I’ll walk thank you.”  
“You’re not walking that far when it’s getting dark-!” Imogen started.

“I’ve thought about it.” Constance interrupted.

Imogen blinked. “You’ve thought about which ‘it’?”  
“the coming back here. The date you asked about.” Constance clarified. “and I am not getting in a car. I’m not playing third wheel while in a four wheeled vehicle.”

“You changed your mind?” Imogen frowned. “Or is this a concussion talking?”

“I haven’t a concussion! And I am allowed to change my mind." Constance said. 

Then added suddenly feeling awkward. “Why?... Have you changed yours? I mean it’s alright if you have. I’m still not keen on the idea but it’s not a very bad one.”

Imogen shook her head suddenly going all shy. “…No. but I thought we were going to talk tonight? We need to talk.”  
“well. We could do both. perhaps?” Constance said, her hands finding Imogen’s. Well finger tips. “We’ll talk tonight? here? Why wait even, let’s start now-?"

 

“Miss! Miss! Miss Hardbroom, Miss! MISS-!”

 

“That’s why.” Imogen muttered pulling her hands back. Constance sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose again.   
 


End file.
